


Black Powder

by its-kylux-baby (skunk_ray)



Series: Lay Claim to your Prize [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 18th Century, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, Biting, Bottom Hux, Bruising, Consensual Mind Control, Dominant Kylo Ren, Everything gets fucked up because two men have sex, First Time, First Time gone sour, Force Control, Grotesque references to Star Wars, Historical References, Hurt / Comfort, Kylux - Freeform, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marking, Mind Manipulation, Oral Sex, Pirates, Top Ren, head-over-heels in love Kylux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skunk_ray/pseuds/its-kylux-baby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Salt. </p><p>1700AD, the floating town Jakku in the South-Chinese sea. After the treasure diver Rey discovers the wreckage of the Finalizer and a very exhausted and dehydrated parrot, her life is about to be uprooted. Little does she know that the emerald pouch around the parrot's neck contains a map to Luke Skywalker, and that dark forces looking for him are closing in on her. Meanwhile, Kylo Ren has disappeared, leaving Hux alone to lead what is left of the First Trading Company into dangerous but successful privateering missions. When Kylo Ren finally turns to the ruthless privateers for help, it becomes a matter of forgiveness. When Ren and Hux inevitably end up in bed again, it becomes a matter of hidden bruises and carefully negotiated rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> It's the sequel! I will be writing one chapter a week / fortnight and the tags might change. I will always put new tags in the notes at the beginning of a new chapter :) I suspect the work to become ~ 20,000 words divided in 10 chapters. 
> 
> Thank you everyone who came from the KBB to read part 1, all the new readers - welcome to my pirate!AU.

“They say everything is made up from the Light, and the Dark,” the working boss grunted as he breathed out, the embers of his pipe dancing away in the dark. He’d seated his fat physique on the veranda of his shabby hut, build from the remains of the countless ships stranded on the treacherous cliffs surrounding the island group. Dozens of similar huts were packed together as densely as the barnacles the working boss had to scrape from the bottom of his veranda every other month. Some lone raft houses scattered the periphery of the shabby town, which covered the entire island group so that from a distance, it looked like it floated too. Hence the name, Jakku - the floating island in the native dialect. It was a small and decrepit town, filled with runaway slaves, bootleggers, moonshiners and wreckage divers, yet all of it was Unkar Plutt’ (1). 

“What d’ ye mean, Unkar?” a meagre, sun-tanned swabbie yelped. Unkar released a mouthful of smoke and pointed his pipe in the general direction of the ocean.

“All of it,” he coughed, “a Light side and a Dark. Good and Evil. Life and Death. I know you can’t read, Mackie, but once you read all them books, it’s there. The Chinese here call it _ying_ and _yang_ \- the forces that keep our world balanced. And there are some men out there who are determined to crush the Light...”

“Is this about them black-cloaked pirates? Them ones tha’ were signaled in Manilla? Bloody ye...” Mack took another courageous shot of whatever experimental brew Unkar had served him, and squirmed. “They killed half them dock workers, they did!”

Unkar nodded. “Those black-cloaked men belong to a dark cult, one that should have stayed dead. And now they are roaming the Chinese seas again, like they did in the old days.” his eyes pinched together as he spied for black sails looming at the horizon. Tonight, Jakku was safe yet again, but for how long?

“Decades ago, a masked pirate terrorized these very same seas, submitting everyone under his control,” Unkar revealed to Mack, “he possessed a dark magic which he used to manipulate and torture people. Yet, he was not the only one. His estranged son was gifted as well, yet used his powers for good. He overthrew his father and brought peace to these waters before returning to England to train equally gifted boys.”

“Gifted? Like that girl -”

Unkar’s look shut Mack right up.

“Gifted, yes. The men from the west called it the Force,” another draw from his pipe released into the deep blue night, “trained boys were able to read minds and move objects with their thoughts. Can you imagine making an army out of those? They say who controls those gifted men controls the seven seas.”  

“And them black-cloaks?”

“Damnit Mack, you forgetful worm,” Unkar rubbed his eyebrows, “what did I say about the Light and the Dark? It’s the same for this power. Those men tap into the dark side of the Force, which is powerful beyond imagination. And they are back, Mackie, oh they are...” Unkar’s watery eyes drifted to one of the lone raft houses, floating half a mile away from Jakku. “They are looking for someone.”  

“I don’t know Unkar...” Mack sighed, more drunk than impressed at this point, “this all sounds like magic mumbo-jumbo to me!”

“Well, “ Unkar sighed, and raised himself from his seat, “that’s why you are a swabbie and I am Governor of Jakku.”

~

_I am just a wreckage diver._

_I am no one._

The sun invited itself too early into the decrepit old shack on the raft, illuminating the little possessions its owner had. A dark blue patchwork bedroll with white stitches nearly coming apart. A nap, a spoon, a knife. And in the corner of the room, resting against the makeshift door, a staff, repaired beyond count. On it was a small, jade talisman with a name carved in - Rey.

The warm sun rays tricked Rey into thinking she was actually there, in the desert of her recurring dreams. In that desert she wandered around, shoulders red and burning in the sun, calling a name she never remembered when waking up. And again today, she almost grasped it as her dream slipped away from her like sand between her fingers. Yet the harsh, wet reality of her life on the raft on Jakku remained and a day like any other followed. 

No breakfast, straight to work. Her hair tied in three buns, her shoulders tanned and strong from rowing out into the reefs. Within minutes she escaped Jakku's atoll to navigate herself through the treacherous depths and pointy rocks of the southern islands. She still hadn't grown tired of seeing the tiny, colorful fish escape from her paddles, or the clear divide of the lagoon waters to the open ocean. She kept the island group in sight, yet navigated into more deeper waters than usual. Not that she needed to, really. Dozens of ships stranded here yearly, and only a few divers could hold their breath long enough to really go to treasure depth. Some of the other women dove for pearls and clams, yet rarely spoke to Rey. She wasn’t born here like the rest of them, and she was too tall and not tan enough or maybe too focused on her one goal: waiting on her family.

Rey thought of them often. The memory of her mother and father's’ faces had faded, but not her determination to survive on her own out here, to make it until they were able to return for her. Surely they were saving up for the dangerous trip as we speak, they must have been -

All of a sudden, she stopped rowing and shook her head. _Silly_. Rey was so caught up in her daily pondering, she almost passed the wreckage she had been raiding for two weeks now. There was not much left, but Rey had to try, she kept telling herself. Bringing treasures to Unkar Plutt was her only way to survive out on Jakku, unless she wanted to try raw sea urchin again. Rey shook that horrible thought off before she secured her boat to an undeep reef and dove into the dark blue waters.

The ship was nearly invisible from the boat, but it had sank surprisingly low against the spiky basalt reef. Rey could usually force herself down to 100 feet if she used a rock to weigh her down, but even that was not necessary for this ship. All masts had broken off completely and the body of the ship rested on the basalt reef in a dangerous balance. So far Rey had taken sealed-off barrels of water, some boots and hats, metal clasps and of course the usual coin. Yet, this was a warship, not a trade ship, and it was bleeding dry quickly. Maybe one or two more days of diving and she’d have to search for a different wreckage again.

As Rey reached the hull after a couple of powerful strokes, she noticed a hatch had opened after the salty sea water had finally worn the clasp down. Judging from the hatch’ position, this might lead to either the Rey turned around and dove straight into the deck below, and as her eyes got used to the darkness - a corpse!

Rey managed to not exhale in fright, and as she pushed herself away from the bloated, grey figure she felt sick to her stomach. The journey back to the water surface felt longer than ever before, and as she grasped onto the raft she gasped for air.

It wasn’t the corpse that started her, but the First Trading Company insignia on its shoulder. The ship that Rey had been looting was none other than the dreaded _Finalizer_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Inspired by Santa Cruz del Islote.


	2. Red Devil

When Hux was a young boy, his usually absent father had taken him to a menagerie in the English countryside, surrounded by soft rolling hills and simple people of small worries. Young Hux had just turned eleven or twelve – his years in his fathers sailing academy had soon blended together. It didn't matter. What he did remember was the first time seeing a lion. The fearsome yet majestic beast roared at the sight of the two red-headed men, one of them not much taller than the exotic predator. Hux took a step back, startled, yet the lion bobbed his head up and down before judging the men unworthy of his time and returning to his resting spot in the sun.

“Look at this beast,” his father had said, “king of the savanna, ruler of his pride. Yet he too has been caught and pacified by none other than us men. So take this as a lesson – do not think of yourself as any less than a powerful force of nature. Man is destined to rule the earth and the animal kingdom, and to put lesser beings in their place. Remember this, son, when you think you cannot prevail. ”

The lion stretched his gigantic paws and yawned his fangs bare. Then, he plunged head-first into the cow carcass in his corner, devouring its gory insides. Hux felt nauseous and dreamed of being ripped apart by lions that night.

A month later, the lion had died.

Nonetheless, Hux got his fathers point – or at least he thought he did. He thought his fathers lesson was about the power of men, about the natural order of things, and this very lesson had fueled Hux' vision of the world and ultimately the First Trading Order. Yet he was wrong. The realization had crept up on him as the months after the _Finalizer_ 's demised had passed by. Now, as he sat alone in his chair in the captain's hut of the _Akahige_ , looking over the material fruits of their recent privateering journeys and the empty side of his bed, he understood the true lesson of that lion.

Caged animals die.

Hux undid the bow in his hair and cracked his fingers before refilling his pipe. Very few of his original crew members had survived to bare witness to his previous life as General of the First Trading Order, yet he quickly regained equal respect and loyalty from his new crew. During the day his captain duties kept him occupied. At night, he barely slept, hearing his heart beat as loud as drums, going over all possibilities again and again as if he could will them into existence.

What did he expect, really? To have Kylo Ren by his side after Hux murdered his master and failed to prevent the sinking of the _Finalizer_? How could he not have slipped away the moment they set foot ashore after being rescued off that island? Hux felt betrayed, but most of all, he felt stupid. Stupid for trusting him. Stupid for loving him.

Hux had actually written down exactly what happened, but as soon as the words were inked down on the scrap of paper it felt too real and he had to burn it again. At least in his mind he could pretend he had misunderstood.

The Chinese traders had taken them aboard only after Hux had offered all the pearl buttons on his justacorps, and frankly he was relieved that Kylo Ren was too tired to watch him cut off his sewing attempt. They hoisted the tall dark man into a poor sod's hammock, and Hux joined him as soon as he bribed them into diverging their course back to Macau. There, feeding his body warmth to the healing buccaneer, owning literally nothing but the clothes on his back, Hux felt like the richest man in the world. Hours later, he woke to Ren's hand firmly in his.

It took them two days to sail back to Macau, and Kylo Ren spoke very little. Hux tried to coax him into helping him with a plan, where to get the money to finance another ship and crew, which allies would probably join them in another company – Ren said he was too tired to think so Hux let him sleep. How foolish of him.

When they landed in Macau, Hux was on the upper deck with the captain when he suddenly saw a black shadow move past him and jump from the railings onto the dock. Hux shouted. No reply. Ren didn't even look back as he pulled up his scarf and dashed down the docks. Now that he thought of it, Hux already knew Ren would not come back, yet he stayed in the port for a full two weeks looking for him.

That was nine months ago.

Hux had been busy since. He'd requesting all favors owed to him by the rich and influential of Macau, and found that the foundations of the FTC were build on fear and spinelessness. Nearly all of their allies had since gone back to privateering or had build up small trading companies of their own. Macau had grown more violent, with privateers ripping off their bosses or double-crossing them by stealing their sold cargo back from the holds. Yet Hux saw opportunity. In circumstances like this, there would still be men looking for a stronger back to  carry then. And it happened Hux needed money too, as he was not about to lower himself to the standards of Macau's rental accommodations, yet his favors with friends of friends were rapidly drying up. After another night in a down-town brothel, stacked away in the smallest room and side-eyes by all the prostitutes for taking up valuable working space, he made a radical decision.

It was quite a sight to all men in the cloak-and-dagger inn at the end of the docks. A weathered yet fancy-clad Westerner dared to step among those who were only rumored about – men who would do anything, _anything_ for pay. The Japanese innkeeper stared the red-headed stranger down the entire time it took for Hux to wrestle away from the drunk, heckling men. The man scoffed. “I should feel honored that the red devil himself has paid us a visit.”

“And the red devil brings coin,” Hux said, dropping his very last gold doubloons next to whatever poison this innkeeper was serving. “And more where that came from.”

The innkeeper laughed his three teeth bare. “Coin will not be enough to move these drunk idiots to do anything, unless there is a lot of it! What else does the red devil offer?”

“His red devil sister? No thanks! My cock still burns from that pussy!” another drunkard heckled, and the rest of the bar laughed. Hux didn't budge, and turned around to the sorry lads who were destined to become the instruments to his next endeavor.

“I promise you freedom,” Hux said, his eyes on fire, “I promise you a key to the cage that keeps you here, drunk, underfed and with a dry cock. Men like you and I are not meant for small prizes and petty adventures, but to shape the world as we see fit. I am Captain Hux of the former First Trading Order and I invite you to take back the wealth from those less deserving than us, to join me in my privateering business and to become richer than you have ever imagined.”

They sailed within two weeks. After obtaining the crew, the ship and other necessities came easy. Hux named his new ship after the pet name his mostly Japanese crew had given him: _Akahige_ , the red devil. The men came to see Hux as a vigilante who defeated the unimaginably powerful FTC for his own personal glory, and Hux did little to correct them. He even grew his beard longer to add to the story he spun around himself. The treasures came soon enough as Hux used his knowledge of his former allies' trading routes to strike their ships down. The _Akahige_ became a local notoriety, and a welcome distraction from Kylo Ren's disappearance.

Until now.

A sudden knock on the door. “Captain Hux?” the youngest swabbie on board of the _Akahige_ screeched. Hux needed no more and nearly jumped out of his chair, bumping against the sole oil lamp lighting his otherwise dark cabin.

“I know,” he said, and opened the four locks on the door. “Bring him on board.”

 


	3. Call-out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren returns to his former General, but is not as complacent as Hux hoped he would be.

The waxing moon illuminated the fat-bottomed East Indianman  _ Akahige _ , clad in roughly sewn-together red and white sails cleverly crafted from salvaged First Trading Order sails. She was a small and weirdly proportioned ship, the  _ Akahige _ , yet she stood her own in the harsh and fickle winds of this part of the South-Chinese sea. The crewmen who kept watch as the  _ Akahige  _ laid in Manilla’s port had grouped together near the walking board as a small group of dark men had gathered round. As Captain Hux stepped onto the deck, his presumptions were confirmed. 

Buccaneers. Only four of them, but unmistakably so. While his heart skipped more beats than Hux skipped steps to walk up to the board he forced himself to remain calm. A secret rendezvous in the middle of the night was certainly Kylo Ren’s style, but the presence of his underlings hinted as some other reason for his return. 

“Captain Hux,” a man said, and the red-haired former General, not quite used to his new title yet, turned around. One of the buccaneers had in fact already boarded, making five in total, and alerted the young swabbie of his presence. The man’s face, obscured by the signature veil, pointed towards the men in black still waiting on the docks. “Permission to board?”

“Permission granted,” Hux bit at him, slightly harsher than the situation called for. He doubted Kylo Ren had informed his men of their former affair, and felt quite disappointing at the fact. Had they really been as estranged to warrent for this dance of politeness and etiquette seldom displayed in a port as decrepit as Manilla’s?

One by one, the men boarded the Akahige under continuous whispers of the crew. Of course rumor had spread of their part played in the demise of the First Trading Order, the most famous one being the buccaneers having turned into mercenaries. Hux wouldn’t be surprised. 

As he let the other buccaneer’s piercing stares wash over him, Hux’ stern gaze remained fixed on the final figure to board the Akahige. Kylo Ren. Their eyes locked the instant he stepped into the light of the dozen or so lanterns scattered across the railings of the East Indianman, and each step felt a minute long to Hux. Come here, he begged in his mind, step onto my ship and regret your flight.

Hux didn’t even consciously ordered his men away, yet the buccaneers took his words as an invitation to return to what they did best: hide in the front storage with the best wine in stock and aggravate the crew. Only Kylo Ren remained, knowing there was no reason to delay their confrontation any longer. Slowly, he removed his veil as he did a thousand times before, yet in nine hundred and ninety times the rest of his and Hux’ clothes to follow. Hux felt a nearly physical yearn as that face revealed itself again before him, the scar a familiar and nearly nostalgic feature. Yet he remained still. He was not ready to forgive. 

Kylo Ren did look different from before, wearing actual knee-high trousers instead of the Eastern black sacks he used to clad around his body. The veil sprung from a roughly-woven scarf making his shoulders look even broader, and from his black belt dangled the same flintlock pistol - only the old sword was missing this time. Actual fine leather boots, knee-high. Right arm clutched tight around his buckle - pain, perhaps? Hux felt the silence between them grow into an uncomfortable length, and he stepped aside looking over the upper deck. 

“Traded her for the Opperhoofd of Dejima, captured aboard a very unfortunate trip to Bali,” he said, gesturing over the decks below him, “a classic  _ spiegelretourschip _ , only build wider at the bottom to resemble the typical Dutch fluyts. She is slow but steady, and holds 950 tons of cargo against 250 crewmen. Quite the trade off.”

Kylo Ren did not respond, and meekly glanced over the great deal Captain Hux had fixed himself with nothing but his natural charisma and the brute force of 250 underpaid sellswords. 

“Of course we don’t use her for operations, I command another 50 men in junks - ”     


“Hux,” Ren nearly sighed, “please. I’m not here to see your ship.”

Captain Hux dove face-first into the trap. “I would ask what else you could possibly be here for, yet I am not as masochistic as you know me to be.” He stepped away, arms tightly pushed against the crevice of his back, forcing himself to stay and face this beast and whatever motives he had. 

Kylo Ren seemed visibly hurt by Hux’ snarl at their shared past activities, and cast his eyes down on the wooden planks beneath his boots. He bit his lip, every fiber in his body seemingly yearning to leave this awful ship and awful Hux -

“Well? What is it?” Hux snapped, his heart raging and demanding a fight. “Do you regret leaving me here? Do you come here to apologize?”

Kylo Ren’s dark brown eyes flickered in the lights of the lantern and his right hand tightened into a ball. “I am not regretful,” he finally spoke, utterly restrained, “yet I am deeply disappointed, General.”

“Disappointed?” The remark hit Hux in all the wrong ways, and any courage he’d mustered up to verbally reprimand Kylo Ren for everything he had done to him slipped away like dry sand. “I spend  _ weeks  _ looking for you. Requested all my favours, pulled all the strings. You did not want to be found.” Hux’ heartbeat loudly drummed in his ear. “Did you expect me to waste any more of my time and assets chasing after someone who so clearly made himself scarce on me?” 

“You misunderstand completely,” Kylo Ren uttered, “I am disappointed that despite all  _ that _ ,” he gestured over Hux’ ship, the Captain’s hat, the torn-up First Trading Order flags, “despite everything, I still desire nothing more than to sail by your side. To hold your hand in mine and to kill at your command.” 

Hux’ hurt frown softened only barely noticeable, yet the silence following felt utterly cold. 

“Did I cage you?” Hux asked, his voice slipping into a tremble. “Is that why you left?”

“You did not,” Kylo Ren bit at him, and stepped away from him to the railing looking over the vast South-Chinese sea. He took off his right leather glove to feel the wet, salty wood underneath his fingertips, knowing than in a few hours they would dry again in the scorching sun of Manilla’s harbor. Hux waited patiently and cursed at himself for not simply walking out of this conversation that brought him everything but closure or gratification. 

“You cast me into the open ocean,” Ren finally said, “an endless vacuum with nothing to hold onto, nothing to swim to but you.” He turned around to meet Hux’ eyes again. “Tell me that is not worse than a cage.”

“I would have given you anything,” Hux hissed, almost offended at the nerve Kylo Ren showed him, “Prizes, ships, love - I would have given you the flesh off my body to feed on.”

“No, Hux - I cannot be held hostage by your love,” Ren said at near whisper, and stepped forward to hold Hux’s head in his hands. The Captain flinched, yet stepped into the embrace as involuntary as breathing. Ren’s single exposed hand burned like fire on his cheek while the gloved hand ran through his past-shoulder length hair undoing the hastily made braid and bow.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Ren whispered against Hux’ yearning lips, eyes deadlocked, “I am returning to you once more out of my own free will. Still, I have not forgiven you yet for taking my master’s life and my purpose,” the corner of Ren’s mouth twitched slightly, “so you will reassure me you can offer more than coin or ships.” 

“You bastard,” Hux gritted through his teeth, knowing he would not resist to whatever game Kylo Ren was playing. He felt Ren step closer and grasp his lower back, undoing the tight knot Hux had formed with his arms. 

“I am your prize. Show me you deserve me.”  


	4. Ivory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Hux even surprised that Kylo Ren is as two-faced as the Devil, or did he hope for something else?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a deflowering turning sour aka hurt - no comfort. This is a sad chapter and Hux is not fine, but at least there's some mind-reading masturbation voyeurism?

“He has not returned out of his own free will,” the tallest of the buccaneers entrusted the red-haired captain who had seated himself on a biscuit crate in the back of the lower deck. The air felt like a stiff cloak around him and and the four black-clad minions who had played their role so convincingly up until now. Captain Hux had finally learned their names - and promptly forgotten again. He was in no mood to pretend to be anything other than disgruntled at being called to this sudden meeting. At least the tall man speaking for the others, no more than shadows in the dark underbelly of the _Akahige_ , went  by Hans - no, Hannes. Captain Hux wondered if all buccaneers had chosen a different name to hide whatever criminal past or ties to famous smugglers and war criminals.

“Glad to hear he keeps his minions well-informed,” Hux sneered faster than his mind could think. He’d not even had breakfast, let alone a wash - the captain was well aware that all buccaneers, heck maybe even all men on his ship to be well-informed about his situation with Kylo Ren right now.

If Hux was truly honest with himself, something he rarely allowed himself to, he absolutely expected Ren to make such a bold move at him the moment they stepped into the captain's chambers, and maybe even hoped for it. Hux had just given the order for his men to fetch a simple meal for the buccaneers who looked nothing short of starved, and after a quick round around the ship one of them had pulled out a Spanish guitar to play a song to the crew. The deep, melancholic tunes accompanied the final demise of Captain Hux’ arguments against diving tongue-deep into Ren’s kiss the moment the door shut behind them.

It was different. It was _better_. Their time apart had kindled a flame in Hux he so rarely felt, but he was not the man to let himself be wooed by a strong hand and deep kisses. He struggled against Ren’s lips, tugged at his charcoal curls and tore at his clothing. Ren grabbed his thighs and lifted him on top of the writing desk, his favourite position where he could so easily reach all Hux’ sensitive spots.

  
This time, only simple wooden buttons came undone but Hux’ soft speckled belly felt and tasted all the same to Ren. Hux moaned under the lavish attention Ren was giving him, yet play-struggled again to see how far he could draw out the tall buccaneer’s desires. A quick grab of both wrists, pinned down above his head. Hux nearly smiled, and then Ren spoke softly.

“I missed you,” a near whisper, then a startled look as if it had slipped from Ren’s tongue against his wishes. Hux stopped his damsel-in-distress charade, and felt himself push Ren’s hand away. He realized the wooden desk felt hard and cold beneath him, and the small bruise on the back of his thigh actually hurt quite a bit. Ren’s stupid face was showing Hux everything except the raw desire he was hoping for. The men on the deck above them stirred and called for rum and wine at the young swabbies. At least this crew was more accepting of the four strange buccaneers.

In an attempt to savor whatever fire was left between them, Ren pulled Hux to the bed in a swift move, carefully undoing him of his clothing. All this time, Hux avoided those large brown eyes begging for reconciliation yet his fingers found their way to the leather ties of Ren’s vest. His bare chest was bobbing up and down as Hux let his hand slide in his black breeches to stroke him. Ren felt it, though, as he felt and noticed everything about Hux despite his years of keeping a stiff upper lip.

Ren then finally noticed his misstep, and gently cradled Hux’ face. “Hush,” he whispered against Hux’ sulking lips, “there is no one but us.” His sun-scorched forehead touched Hux’ pale one, and his mind nearly succumbed under Ren’s presence - strange, he was once used to Ren being inside him for hours at a time when Ren thought him asleep and lingered in the windowsill of his old General’s quarters. But even if Ren meant well with his odd attempt at comforting the Captain, Hux could not help himself from remembering that one time he -

A devilish grin appeared on Ren’s face, any insecurity in his voice now gone. “Show me more,” he said greedily as he pulled Hux in his lap. It wasn’t a question, and as Ren delved deeper into Hux’ memories Hux could feel two wet finger slipping inside him and the other firmly around his cock. He made a flustered noise encouraging Ren to stroke him faster.

“Damn you,” Hux hissed, panting as quietly as possible as he moved on Ren’s fingers exactly as painlessly as he expected. How could it not be, as Ren now viewed one of those embarrassingly lonely nights when Hux pleasured himself. On all fours on the bed, a pillow propped under his belly and the ivory object deep inside him. Hux softly moaning Ren’s name as he thrust the object in and out of him before coming quite pathetically in his pillow. Yet Ren noticeably enjoyed the view in Hux’ mind, and re-positioned to take both their cocks in one hand. Hux flinched as he felt Ren’s hot member push against his own. Just have your way with me, he begged silently in his mind, show me what I have been missing.

Ren no longer grinned in aroused amusement, and pressed his lips greedily onto Hux' knowing he was finally, finally ready for him. He pushed Hux on his back and nearly tore off his breeches while making a vain attempt at trying to be gentle by _slowly_ pushing Hux legs open. Hux didn't fall for it, and found the utmost restraint Ren was showing to be incredibly arousing. He took a fistful of the now chin-length dark curls and kissed Ren one more time before letting go to enjoy the bare-chested view of a man who could not wait to fuck him.

Ren closed his eyes for a heartbeat as he stroked himself with the last bit of coconut oil he had left after his sunburn. He bit his lip as he pushed to enter Hux, and felt him relax as soon as he started whispering to him - “you feel so good, so tight...” - no lie to it as Hux nearly pulled him in. Ren had to stop and focus or he would surely hurt Hux in his overly enthusiastic passion. He leaned closed as he slowly pushed in the final inch and felt Hux nearly curl in half underneath him. “Ahhh fffuck...” Hux moaned in pleasure and clawed at Ren's chest, feeling his eagerness to thrust harder and faster and the slight shaking of his hand in restraint. He needed him, craved him, and he would have none of this almost virgin-like treatment. “Fuck me, Ren,” Hux begged, “you know what I want.”

“I do,” Ren panted, “and do not regret it.” With a single motion he pushed Hux on his belly as Hux had done himself countless nights before, and roughly thrust back inside him. Hux could only whimper as he felt Ren grab him by his hastily tied ponytail, pulling his head back up. Only the first couple of movements hurt slightly at this angle, and then Hux felt nothing but immense pleasure. He struggled again against Ren's harsh hand around his cock and felt the man behind him quiver at the sight.

Again, it was different. It was better. So much better. Red had let go of Hux hair and grasped his hips, stroked his back and spread his ass to look at how well Hux took him. After minutes of quite panting, Hux just closed his eyes and leaned back in the pillow as Ren's pace quickened. He felt the weight above him shift and Ren's fingers grasping him more tightly as Hux could hold no longer and came, hard, biting the pillow and his lower lip as he tried to suppress any moan that would give them away. Ren came as silently as he did, as if it hadn't truly happened, and slowly pulled out of Hux only to quickly wipe himself and re-thread the ties on his vest.

“Don't leave,” he had panted, but Ren did leave, and now Hux was here, stuck in the lower deck with Ren's buccaneers while still bruised and disillusioned and frankly quite offended “that” was all. Offended as in “that” was nothing more than a fuck, _another_ fuck - another hair-pull, another masturbation session only then with Kylo Ren present.

Hux couldn't say Ren hadn't warned him. He got what he wanted only to find out he didn't. Whatever this Hannes guy was telling him – that they had to pull Kylo Ren off the island he set his self-imposed exile to, that they had to literally beg him to come to the _Akahige_ and promise various hardly possible and completely impossible favors in return - Hux was not surprised. Hux was not surprised he was not surprised.

“Tell me everything,” he commanded, “start at the beginning.”

  
  
  



	5. Birds of a Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tale of a ruthless pirate king finds its way into Rey's dreams, before trouble finds its way to her.

For the sailors of the  _Geldermalsen,_ the night did indeed feel colder, darker even, after the news of the approaching ship spread like wildfire among the crew. The sighting had been reported over an hour ago but the desperate captain and quartermaster had decided against sharing it. Only when one of the young swabbies was send out to eavesdrop what the two men where arguing about so loudly did the crew get their confirmation.

It was true. The one ship that was only whispered about by the drunkest of sailors and cast fear in the eyes of even the most battle-hardened soldier. And yet it was there, looming at the horizon, its black flag playfully dancing on the wind and the tall, broad-shouldered figures of its crew scanning for prey.

The  _Death Star_ was a truly humongous ship - a hundred cannons on each side and a crew deeply devoted to its captain who preferred to go by his other title:  _Darth_ , whatever it may have meant in a tongue now lost . His reputation was as dark as the shadows surrounding his motivations, but he was known to pirate cargo ships on this route. The few man who ever survived these raids spoke of terrible black magic – voices in their head, an invisible hand tightening at their throat. Many a man knew the tales, as it had been so for nearly twenty years.

“Hold your positions,” the captain spoke, and shooed his navigator away before resting his three-fingered hand on the creaking wood of the _Geldermalsen's_ helm. “Do not provoke him. That leviathan of a ship has remarkable speed, and will be here within the minute. So do the only sensible thing: pray.” The captain's voice nearly broke. “Pray to the Gods they will only take our tobacco and leave!”

It was too late. The _Death Star_ had upped its speed and crossed the  _Geldermalsen_ at its starboard edge for what the crew imagined to be a cocky display of its weaponry. The crew, clad entirely in black, slowly drummed with the hilts of their swords on the edge of the railings, humming vile threats and shouting obscenities in four different languages. The captain closed his eyes and folded his hands. “Please, let the young ones live...” his futile prayer sounded, and before the crew could even assemble he was jolted into the air by an invisible rope. The quartermaster screamed and drew for his sword, but there was no way for him to reach the assaulter - the tall, dark man on the high deck of the ship, holding his half-clenched hand into the air. Although his face was obscured by a detailed leather mask, his fiery eyes locked with the quartermasters', expressing an evil fire that burned right through the thirty feet of black, salt water separating the two ships.

The captain screamed and kicked at whatever power held him up in the air, before his screams turned into gurgles and then into silence. The quartermaster stumbled back, horrified at the sight of his captains dead body plummeting back onto the deck. “Cannons!” he shouted while desperately trying to reload his flintlock pistol. “F-fire at will!”

Mayhem. A deafening sound of cannon- and crossfire almost deafened the crew as they struggled though smoke and darkness to get a grip on the pirates now flooding their ship. A few unlucky men did not even make it to the fight as the grappling hooks pulled them over the railings and into the swirling darkness below. The Death Star's men were exceptional fighters, taking down sailor after sailor as they ruthlessly cleared the way to the lower deck. Their captain followed slowly, and the heavy weights of his metal leg braces resonated within every plank of the ship, all the way to the lower deck where a young boy, no older than nineteen, was forcefully removed from his hideout and brought up. Of course, kicking and swearing with the vigor of a young wolf pup. The true prize of this dangerous endeavor.

“You have to stop this!” the man peeped. How adorable. “You are a monster!”

The captain laughed, yet it sounded like a growl. With a flick of his hand he cast the boy down, weighing every inch of his powers on him, so he might know, he might  _remember_ -

The young man squealed and kicked against his aggressors mental torture until he closed his eyes and fell limp. The captain lowered his hand, waiting for a response. He would realize it soon enough.

All of a sudden the young man jumped to his feet, arm outstretched to the first pirate he saw to forcefully pull his sword from his hand. The weapon shot through the air into the young man's hand, who took a very liberal and very badly calculated swing at the tall, dark captain before him. The captain barely flinched, block the sword with his own and felt the blade cut through flesh and bone. A high cry, a thump of knees meeting bare planks.

“Don't make me destroy you,” the captain spoke in a deep, hoarse voice, “join us. Sail the seas and have a taste of true freedom. Have you not been hauled from place to place like a piece of cargo, hush-hushed away on the lower deck – lest anyone might find out who you are, and the power you harness.”

The boy only whimpered, and the captain continued. “If you would only see how easily we could end this conflict, together. The English have kept you in a golden cage, suppressing your power and clouding your mind with false tales.”

“F-false tales?” the young boy struggled, grinning and panting in pain. “Like how you _killed_ my father?”

“No,” the captain bit at him, “ _I_ am your father.”

All the young man answered was a long, painful cry, before he plummeted himself over the railing of the ship, into the deep dark waters below. Only there was no water on which the ships staid afloat, but coarse sand, slipping into his ears and nose and throat.

The captain hasted towards the railings and screamed after his son.

“Luke Skywalker!”

Rey gasped for air as she clutched her stick on instinct. Sunlight crept through a hole in her hut, temporarily blinding her as she desperately tried to find the direction of the screams. The dream had crept up in her veins like a vile poison, deafening and thickening the world around her.

It had been going on for nights, her dreams about sand. The first night after discovering the Finalizer wreckage and that awful corpse, Rey couldn't sleep at all. The second night, she dreamed of swimming down again, entering the hull only to find it empty. She tried to swim back up, to grasp some air, but invisible hands were pulling her back in despite her screams and struggles. Then, the water turned into hot sand slipping between her fingers and filling her eyes and ears and throat as a bald and pale figure clawed at her. And now this dream, so vivid and alive as she – or the young man, plummeted into the sand that chocked her down as she tried to swim through it, half-awake, before the piercing scream brought her back to the real world.

“Luke Skywalker!” - it came from... above?

Slowly, Rey opened the door of her tiny hut and jumped out, ready to strike whoever dared to crawl on her roof. The nearest hut was a minute swimming away, so who in the name of - ?

As Rey's large brown eyes peeked over the low wooden roof, she did not expect to find a very dehydrated and exhausted orange parrot. The poor creature was obviously of the talking variety as it muttered soft cries of “help!” and “Luke Skywalker!”.

I am still dreaming, Rey instantly thought as she backed down and sat herself on the tiny wooden porch of her floating hut. No, I am not dreaming, I am actively drowning and hallucinating. Rey was absolutely sure of it – why else would there be a talking parrot on her roof speaking of Luke Skywalker? After hearing a very disappointing croak, Rey stood back up to look again and sure thing, there it still was. The bird crawled back on his feet, and only now Rey noticed it was carrying a small emerald pouch around its neck.

“Are you lost?” Rey asked, not sure what she expected to hear in reply as the parrot continued to croak meaninglessly. Yet its beady eyes looked at her intensely, and Rey felt this creature looked a lot dumber than it was. She stuck out her arm to help the poor thing off the roof, and it hopped right on her shoulder. Rey quickly grabbed the container from her water collector to let the parrot drink, and watched as it took big gulps with its beak.

“Where is your master?” she tried again, and the parrot looked at her with its head cocked. “Come on... I heard you talk,” Rey prodded, and nudged the bird to her wrist. “Who is your master?”

“Luke Skywalker!” the bird said proudly.

“Yes...” Rey rolled her eyes, “let me ask my friend Bluebeard where he is.”

The parrot seemed to roll its eyes right back at her as it swept his head from side to side. Rey pointed at the pouch. “Are you carrying a message?”

A new word this time. “Secret!”

Rey laughed. “Ah yes, of course... I also know a great secret.” She took a piece of dried seaweed from her pouch and fed it to the parrot. “If you tell me yours, I tell you mine.”

The parrot didn't seem to like the idea and snipped its beak at Reys fingers, clawing her hand away from the pouch around its neck.

“Okay, okay, you'll need more than a piece of seaweed to get talking,” Rey figured, and decided a small meal would help her shake off the horrible nightmare. She carefully put the parrot on her shoulder and jumped into her rowboat to make way for Jakku to see if Unkar Plutt was in the sharing mood today. He was very skimpy on food these days, as he knew some of his girls were keeping the best pearls for themselves to hopefully buy a way out of this life. Rey didn't bother to, as she valued real food more than a vague promise of a life elsewhere. And she wouldn't want to leave either way, as her parents would never find her again if -

Suddenly, the parrot started screeching aggressively as Rey approached the docks. “Hush, what is it?” she sighed as her eye fell on an unfamiliar junk near Unkar Plutt's hut. The fat, bald man stood crouched over a map together with five figures clad entirely in black. If Rey knew Unkar, which she did, his body language spelled a very clear 'treacherous' with a hint of 'money-grabbing'. Just as Rey prepared to dock her boat to tell Unkar of her ideas of his moonlighting activities, a hand tightened itself over her mouth as she was pulled into a small sailing vessel and pressed to the floor.

“Be silent!” a voice hissed in her ear. “For God's sake be silent if you want to live!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Geldermalsen is a real ship that sailed between 1748 and 1752, and is similar in size and type to the Black Pearl of Pirates of the Caribbean (to give you an idea of size).


End file.
